The Little Things
by Katalystik
Summary: It was the little things, in the end, that convinced Taka that Fuji was out to kill him. takafuji


pairing: takafuji

rating: PG

warnings: short, lame, sappy, OOC... everything the doctor ordered :D

* * *

It was the little things, in the end, that convinced Taka that Fuji was out to kill him.

For example-

"Aa, Taka-san. Your jacket is buttoned crooked. Let me fix it-"

"F-Fuji! I can get it! Uh..."

But by then Fuji had already snaked his fingers into botton holes and around clasps, and within ten seconds Taka's jacket was fixed and his heart was in a little pulp at the nottom of his stomach, waving a white flag and making Taka's brain swim with images of Fuji in a wedding dress. Dammit, it was always like this! It didn't matter where he was with Fuji- a friendly dinner, an outing to the movies, a mere school lunch- all were enough to make Taka see confetti hearts and Fuji-of-the-future doing /their/ laundry. In /their/ house.

It was enough to drive Taka mad.

Not that Taka really, really minded. Kind of, anyway.

"Got a special girl in mind, son?" His father had quipped loudly one night after the sushi resteraunt had closed. Taka jumped a good ten inches in the air, smashing the little heart shaped mound of rice he had been smiling stupidly at.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't really Fuji's fault. Directly. But it still sent his poor heart into a catatonic state for a while once he realized that yes, he had been shaping rice into a stupid, girly heart and yes, he had been thinking about Fuji making a pie. In an apron. With their kids playing tennis in the backyard.

It had to stop.

But Fuji kept on blithely doing the little-things-that-killed-Taka, and Taka found it very hard to stop anything, least of all the weird, tense relationsip they had. Er, well, he had, because Fuji never let ont hat anything at all was amiss between them. It was Taka who had the suicidal heart and sweaty palms and dry mouth-

"Taka-san. Would you carry my books for me? I want to walk with you a bit, if that's alright." It was after school and Fuji was smiling at him sweetly, eyes closed and mouth curved in a soft, soft smile. Taka instantly saw the world in a lovely shade of pink and wasted no time in gently taking Fuji's books from his fingers.

They walked in silence for a bit, with Fuji every so often brushing up against Taka's arm and side. This has to stop, his brain whispered, because boys do not carry book for other boys and boys do not think about other boys in wedding dresses and boys do not want to pull the garter off of their husband with their teeth-

"Fujiko-chan," Taka said suddenly, making Fuji look at him sharply. Er. Fuji was looking at him, just a sliver of blue eyes behind feather-soft eyelashes, and Taka's palms were turning into rivers already. "Do you ever... think... it's weird?"

Fuji tilted his head and Taka could swear that he had just heard a pistol being cocked. "What's 'it', Taka-san?" And the smile was gone, and great, Taka had just ruined everything. His heart popped the cork off a bottle of cyanide and took a breath, ready to say goodbye to it all.

"You're not a girl," Taka said shamefully, realizing that Fuji's books were getting all palm-sweaty and once this was over Fuji was going to regret not only ever have met Taka but also for letting the big, sweaty oaf carry his books, too. "But..."

A hand on Taka's shoulder brought his attention up from the ground and onto Fuji, who was smiling again. Taka was sure he wasn't the expert of Fuji-facial expressions, but this smile didn't, for once, look calculating or cruel. Just amused. At his expense? Probably.

"Taka-san."

"Ah, forget I said that, please-"

"I'm not a girl."

Taka looked away. "Yeah. I know that."

Fuji looked thoughtful. "Well, as long as you know that." He laughed, a sound that to any other being on earth would have been equivocable to Satan screaming but to Taka- it was like sweet angel bells.

They started walking again, this time with Fuji's arm delicately around Taka's. Taka wasn't sure it was healthy for his arm to sweat like that. Shit. Was he going to sweat everywhere Fuji touched? Would Fuji laugh at him and break his heart over such a trivial thing? Because no one wanted a sweaty husband. Not that he had proposed to Fuji yet.

Without him even realizing it the pair had reached Fuji's house, Taka so entrenched in his sweaty, marital thoughts that Fuji had to shake him a little to un-daze. "I'll take my books now," Fuji said lightly, taking the now-a-little-damp books from Taka, letting their fingers brush together.

Another baby step towards his inevitable death at the hands of Fuji Syuusuke. Taka flushed, then placed a hand at the back of his neck in humility. "Sorry, Fujiko. Thank you for letting me walk you home." Even if you're not a girl and I still want to kiss you and give you flowers and buy you tennis racquets for our anniverseries, he added mentally.

"Hm. I'm disappointed, Taka-san. I would have thought you would like to stay for dinner." Fuji shifted his books to his hip and reached up with his free hand to adjust the collar of Taka's school uniform, making Taka's lungs deflate like water balloons thrown from a helicopter.

"I would love to," Taka said in a rush, not event hinking about it becasue Fuji's little finger was playing with the skin on his neck and oh god he was going to die now but that was okay, even if he had yet to see Fuji's face when he swept him off his feet to their honey-moon suite...

Okay, so it was the little things Fuji did that were sure to kill Taka. In the end.

But, as Fuji led Taka into his house by the sweaty hand, it was the bigger things, meanwhile, that were going to keep him living.

Well, at least until the wedding.

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TH'END.

AN: Written for Brittany, because she wanted Thanksgiving fic and I said I would. This is lame, I am aware, but...shuddup.

And Taka is /so/ the marrying type. Aw. Such a cute muscly ball of schizo. I so resisted from the whole FUJIKO-CHAN, so be proud. Because if I had written that in...I would have just turned into a pudlde of OMG GOO.

OOC, as always.

zooms off to eat turkey


End file.
